


That Dream Again

by LateToTheParty



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8891869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateToTheParty/pseuds/LateToTheParty





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeMyDarkling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeMyDarkling/gifts).



That dream again. I found myself staring up from my bunk, the _Ebon Hawk_ ’s ceiling staring back. Its familiar greys had become… home, the people on the ship family. At least, that’s what I liked to believe. It was always the same. Nightmare after nightmare, so vivid, so… real. I heard a name sound, my own. That wasn’t part of the dream… was it?

My… name. It sounded so unfamiliar to my own ears, but I had grown accustomed to it. My eyes closed. I was back on Taris again. I felt thousands of voices fall silent, their screams haunting my mind, my memory… a mockery. How many people had we slain? I remember trying to help; Taris had become a blur. Slaves… gangs… gambling, racing. It was as if it had happened to someone else, another lifetime ago. But then the guns were turned on Taris from above and the city was reduced to ruins. The whole ecumenopolis gone. What did any of it matter? Those who opposed us, those we had helped… tried to help… all dead, all lost. Everyone. Only the Twi’lek girl and her Wookie… we should have taken more. We had space. The _Ebon Hawk_ could have housed far more. But what if we had been hit? What if we hadn’t escaped?

I clawed at my temples. That soundless ringing, the dull thud; it was an ache-less throb. Black, grey clouds, like rolling, sweeping fog. My mind…

My name sounded again, calling to me. Who was calling? I shut my eyes.

 

The _Endar Spire_. Faces floated before me, blaster fire rang out. The rush of air as the hull was breached, as everything was drawn out towards the vacuum. That soldier… Trusk. That… that man, his killer. He seemed… familiar? A foe. Trusk sacrificed himself. The door… my eyes clenched and the pillow beneath me barely seemed to support me. I was a Republic soldier… yes, sworn to uphold the Republic, a duty to protect…

 

My name rang out, this time in frustration and then concern. It came more gently. “Revan.”

I opened my eyes, and there she was, staring down at me, that blue gaze filled with warmth. Her hand reached for me, falling just short of my cheek.

“We’re here.”

 

Her words were firmer this time. I felt myself nod, but couldn’t draw myself away. Something flickered across her blue gaze, and then it was gone. Her brown hair framed those stubborn features in a way I could only call endearing, and sometimes, the sunlight would strike her just so…

 

I sensed a sharp rebuke was coming, and I raised my hand without thinking; my fingers wrapped around her shoulder, digging in. She moved to shake me off, then caught herself.

“Revan?”

My eyes must have widened. So close to her, I was acutely aware of her warmth, her breath, my own slow breathing, my own hammering heart. My thoughts were awhirl, ablaze, a fog. I felt like I was falling. Her hand closed around my wrist, and I felt myself release the breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. The maelstrom calmed. Almost tenderly, she used her forefinger to brush a strand of hair behind my ear; then, for the second time, she caught herself, and began to straighten. My grip tightened.

“Who… who I am?”

I felt the bed give as she effortlessly slid against its edge, her perch precarious as she leaned across me, her face certain, set. Now her hand did cup my cheek, and my own rose to hold it. She didn’t speak; her lips moved. The cloud of pain returned, biting, striking deep; her forehead was against mine, and it began to still, dissipating.

 

I was a soldier… with a duty to the republic… I…

 

Another voice sounded from beyond the hallway. A girl’s voice. Mission’s. I couldn’t breathe; then I did. My hand interlinked with Bastila’s, even through the press of her glove and mine. I felt strengthened, renewed… the voices and fades faced. I felt my other handed guided towards something… it felt familiar, like an old friend. My… lightsaber. Yes, she had taken it when Malek betrayed me, when his vessel opened fire upon mine. When… we had fought, her yellow blade crossing mine. She kept it, then returned it to me after my new one broke. I saw that moment vividly in my mind. I had just completed it, and we sparred… the double blade searing and cutting the air, my own tearing the breeze around it. I don’t remember how we began… it was… natural, yes, my limbs moving of their own accord, and hers too, slow, graceful, and then towards each other. In the flicker of an eye, we locked, inches from each other, our faces held back by our two blades. Then we parted, as if dancing, and clashed, our full might behind them. She raised hers to catch mine, horizontal above her head, and her leg kicked out, catching my midriff; I was pushed back. I did not stagger. I smiled. There was a gleam, a savage gleam to my eye, mirrored in her gaze. The sabre arced down, sweeping across her, and she pivoted, her own cutting through the tip of mine, just above my thumb. My blade fizzled for what seemed an eternity, and then faded. She wheeled back, as though to impale me, and stopped.

We stared at each other, then began to laugh. Our first fight… except, it wasn’t. It was so absurd. I had spent hours assembling that lightsaber. We focused on hand to hand after that, dodging, ducking, weaving, punching, kicking, sweeping… falling, blocking. The grass we landed on was crushed dozens of times.

Her fingers pressed down, and my own closed. Yes, this was my old companion. I felt safer for having it, but its presence was a shadow that hung long in my mind. This was the blade that had taken the lives of so many, that had journeyed beside me against Mandalor.

She met my eye and I nodded slightly.

 

“What _are_ you two– oh.” Mission’s head poked around the door, her head tendrils flushing a deeper blue than usual. Bastila’s face was its usual stoic, unimpressed, even haughty self, and the girl withered before it. It was unlike Mission to react that way, I decided, then realised how it must look.

“I thought Jedi weren’t–”

“Out.” Bastila’s voice was low, but it could have cut through the bulkhead. When she turned towards me, I saw the challenge in it, then watched as it softened when I offered nothing. When had I become so passive? Her affections had proven elusive, her harsh countenance never wavering on the battlefield or off. She was the model of fierce, proud impulsiveness, her serenity lacking. Her peace never more easily disturbed than when I had joined her to meditate, when we were alone and she sensed I was teasing her. That’s how it had begun, hadn’t it? She had made a haughty comment, and I had retorted by calling her a ‘princess’. She stared at me, slow anger and shame, but also near hatred. Then she composed herself. I thought I had imagined it, until I caught her glance here and there, wary, conflicted, as if I were some kind of feral predator. I would smile at her. I don’t know what made me do it, but I couldn’t help myself. Then she would sniff, pull her nose up and pretend the exchange had never happened.

She saved my life, and I saved hers, and then I learnt she was a Jedi… I thought our camaraderie would stop, that I would never see her again, but she took charge, led us… tried to. We journeyed to a Jedi enclave, secreted away, and she seemed more remote than ever. Along the way, she asked to see me, once, addressed me formally, and told me I would do well to ‘consider my report’. I couldn’t forget the voices, the faces, and didn’t argue with her.

We met her masters, the remnants of the Jedi council, and they tried to train me… retrain me. It came back faster than any of them imagined. They thought they were being subtle, set her as my keeper, my… executioner. It didn’t work. The first time we saw the star map, the vision we shared, something dislodged inside me, inside us both. I felt a… closeness, an affinity. She did too, though she denied it. It troubled her. We left the enclave behind, but my training was far from complete. And so, we meditated, and we grew closer, and closer. The words of the Jedi oath came easily, but peace was a lie. I felt no peace. The wars had changed me, changed us both. I reached out and touched her cheek the second time; her eyes snapped open, flaring, indignant rage coming to the fore, but I told her quietly how tight her face was, then offered some flippant remark. She relaxed, smiling, then quipped something. We trained daily, sometimes more than that, and when we landed, I was more my old self…

I don’t remember when it happened. I don’t remember how it happened. I know only that I met her gaze, Tattooine’s desert around us both, and told her, _‘you know me’_. I demanded she tell me my name. It was strange… it was through our sparring, our dance, that I realised we knew each other. I should have asked how she knew me, but I recognised we had crossed blades before, somewhere, somehow. I remembered the dream when I first came to… she was there, her yellow blades hissing, that look I had seen on Taris, ready to spring, to fight, to kill, to die. That determination. She spoke my name, as though in question. I don’t know how long I stood in the searing heat, but she turned and strode into the _Ebon Hawk_ , and when she returned, she was holding my lightsaber. Not the broken wreck, but my true blade. She threw it to my feet, her eyes blazing blue fire, her own blade in hand.

I lifted mine with the force; I felt it calling to me, or perhaps I was calling to it. She was ready to kill me, but I stared at it wonderingly, turning it this way and that, as my fingers remembered their place around it. I activated it with an effortless thought. Hers flared to life. Then… we danced. Truly danced. I do not know quite why; it felt… natural. Right, somehow. We were panting, sweating, our sweat turning to vapour under the two suns, her brow knitted, her jaw clenched. For me, it was like reliving a forgotten memory, my feet finding their step, my arms remembering their old strength, and my mind… my mind focused so sharply. I cast her down, and wrenched her lightsaber from her grip with the force. I deactivated hers as carelessly as I did my own, and smiling, pulled her up with the force. Her body pressed against mine; I hadn’t meant to pull so hard, or perhaps I expected her to resist. Her hands were against my chest, and her breath was on my neck. I could feel her hammering heart, or perhaps it was simply my own.

_‘I believe this is yours, princess.’_ She snatched her lightsaber back, her face flushing. Mayeb it was at that point I had first felt peace; I hadn’t wanted to kill her. Surprise was present alongside helpless rage, but then she smiled too. _‘You cheated.’_ She accused, her words low, almost amused. Her temper was like shifting water sometimes. I remember my eyebrow rose.

_‘You used the force to trip me.’_

I grinned. She pushed against me, but my arms rose to catch hers. I felt her gasp, even as I leaned down and kissed her. I had never felt her go so rigid. Then she punched me and my stomach contracted. Wincing as I straightened, she primly reminded me that Jedi were not supposed to be entangled in romantic liaisons. I pointed out that my training was incomplete, and as my teacher, she should be gentler in her instruction. Her sniff should have been enough, but then she reminded me that I ‘learnt faster’ under heavy training I smiled. So did she. That was where it changed.

 

“You need to stop daydreaming.” Back in the present, Bastila’s voice was both amused and mildly irritated. “Or did the great lord Revan intend to sleep while his subordinates search Kashyyyk without him?”

“I’m sure Mission’s got it.” I smiled, then leaving my pillow behind, reached up and kissed her. Her hand shoved my shoulder down. “Oh? I thought you wanted me up, master.”

Her lips twitched, “I see _you’re_ feeling better.”

I chuckled softly, and groaned. “Pass me my robe?”

It was her turn for her eyebrow to arch.

Rolling my eyes, I pulled the black garment with the force. Sleeping in pants and shirt of the same shade hadn’t bothered me since Mission’s remark that us ‘Jedi’ seemed to always be in our PJs anyway… Sitting up, I wrapped it around myself as I stood – without my hands. Bastila shook her head, and I asked mildly, “Is that not an appropriate use of my talents, master? I thought I was supposed to practice my control.”

For a second, she looked as though she was about to say something else, but smacked my arm instead. “Come on.”

“Was I mistaken in sensing you knock Mission onto her – ow!”

“We,” she leaned in, “still have a dark lord to catch and defeat, or do you think he’s napping too?”

“Knowing Malek? Probably.” I laughed, then shook my head. There were still three other pieces to find but the idea of traipsing through forest and sea just didn’t appeal. “Maybe we should sleep more.” I mused, ignoring her incredulous, then suspicious look. “I might remember something. Meditate with me?”

“You silly man.” Bastila sighed.

She really had changed.

“Guys, are you coming?” Mission called across the ship. “We’re all waiting for you!”

All being HK47, Carth, Zaalbar, T3-M4, and Canderous.

“You go on ahead.” I replied, using the force to amplify my voice. Bastila shook her head. “Scout the area out. You’re in charge, Mission.”

Bastila’s eyebrow rose again. I shrugged.

“And this is how the great Revan leads? No wonder you were so easy to capture.”

“They’ll be fine. Probably.” I knelt down, and crossed my legs, my hands open on my knees. I needed to focus on the star map. Malek and I had been there before, in the ruins near the enclave. Not quite sighing, Bastila joined me. “Hey, if this works, it’ll save us days of trekking.”

“I think you just want to get us alone.”

Things really had changed. I smiled lightly. “Shall we explore how far this bond really goes?”

She planted herself in front of me, holding herself erect, daring me to make good on my words.

“You know we’re not supposed to…”

It wasn’t feigned indifference that met my smile, or fiery indignation. I had never expected to hear what she said next: “Shut up and kiss me.”

“Whatever you instruct, master.”

 

*

 


End file.
